


Recipe for Success

by PastyPirate



Series: Scenes from a pair of Bakeries [3]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Background Quynh/Andy, Baking, Baking Puns, Bottom Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Dr. Kozak sucks, Fluff and Smut, I've lost the thread, Italics for texting, Joe and Nicky are bakers, M/M, PWP, Sexting, Smut, Special occasion smut, Top Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, and even filthier smut?, but they're both vers and prefer the reverse, really really filthy sexting, send help, so much sexting, who were once enemies and now are stupidly in love, with a hint of plot for flavor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26766637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastyPirate/pseuds/PastyPirate
Summary: Why are you staring at me?Appeared on the notifications screen. Nicky looked up to find Joe smiling at him, the twinkle evident even across the thinning crowd.Nicky picked his phone up, and decided to be honestI’m bored, you’re hot.Nicky could hear Joe’s laugh from across the aisle, he looked up in time to see Joe shake his head.In which: Nicky tries to use his words at the public market.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Scenes from a pair of Bakeries [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940119
Comments: 103
Kudos: 561





	Recipe for Success

Nicky used to like the public market in the winter time. The dedicated few who braved the cold to go to stroll along the tables under the 1800s’ era shelter. How babies would be bundled in tiny hats, sleeping peacefully in their strollers as their parents tucked bags of potatoes where the baby bag should go. Old friends haggling over the price of local produce. A few vendors bragging about their pomegranates, avocados, and oranges that came from far flung warm places.

Nicky usually left the stand in Nile’s care and wandered around to buy a few things to experiment with. The stand itself was a good way to see what flavors would do well or which he should continue to work on. 

At that particular moment, however, holding a cup of black coffee that had long since gone cold, his back to the slushy rain on the verge of becoming snow, Nicky was extremely aware that _most_ Tuesdays he’d still be in Joe’s decadently soft bed, under one of his weighted blankets, with whatever ridiculously delicious thing Joe slapped together within arm’s reach to nibble on. Nicky would follow him down to the kitchen to handle making the coffee because Joe’s talents did not stretch to pouring grounds into a machine and hitting _start_ in a weird sort demonstration of the rule that everything must have a flaw built in. 

Most importantly Joe would be _right there_ probably stroking Nicky’s arm absentmindedly as he scribbled poetry and recipe ideas into his notebook, instead of across the aisle and two stalls down. 

Nicky shot him a look, and saw that between customers Joe was still finding time to scribble in his notebook. He wanted to see what Joe was working on, offer useless opinions when requested, and bury his nose in Joe’s neck because damn it his nose was cold. Joe’s gloves ended at the knuckles, honestly Nicky was mildly obsessed with his fingers. Maybe it was the rings. He always wore rings on those long perfectly adept fingers. Joe’s phone was resting against the back of his notebook, he slid it down and typed out with the exposed pads of his thumbs. 

Nicky’s own battered phone vibrated on the table. 

_Why are you staring at me?_ Appeared on the notifications screen. Nicky looked up to find Joe smiling at him, the twinkle evident even across the thinning crowd. 

Nicky picked his phone up, and decided to be honest _I’m bored, you’re hot._

Nicky could hear Joe’s laugh from across the aisle, he looked up in time to see Joe shake his head. 

_How does that stop you from being bored babe?_ Joe asked. 

Nicky looked around, taking stock of the crowd. Most of his baked goods were long gone in bellies and bags of patrons who came and went early in the morning. The crowd was now thinned out to a few late comers who were more focused on stocking up veggies for their weekly stew, and old biddies who gossiped over coffee as they had nothing better to do in retirement. He could afford to let himself get a little distracted. 

_Just thinking about what I could do to you in that lovely bed of yours_ Nicky knew that Joe was extremely aware of Nicky’s thoughts on his bed. 

_O?_ Joe said, as if typing out the H would be too much effort. 

_:)_ Somewhere very far away, Nile is shouting _You always use the wrong emojis Nicky!_ and if Joe’s glare across the aisle means anything: he’s somehow fucked it up again. A lady with a thick New York accent stepped up to the table, investigating his wares. Nicky tried not to smile too much as he helped her, knowing that Joe was still watching him. 

When he sat back down and looked at his phone, he saw, _u tease._

Nicky’s gloves hinder his typing more than anything else, so with a purposeful look at Joe, he pulled them off, one hand at a time. Inspiring a flurry of texts as Joe smiled wider and wider. 

_o damn_

_so hot_

_great hands_

_wish they were inside me_

Nicky stared at the screen and contemplated how to approach this particular situation. He’d never done this before. Honesty was probably the best policy. 

_I wish that too_ Nicky said, his thumbs flying across the screen as he hit send and continued on. _All I can think about is the first time I slept in that bed, waking up in a cloud and in your arms. And how you were still so sleepy even after you brought me food. Do you remember what we did?_

 _Y_ Joe said, and Nicky could see that he was typing more _you ruined me for all other people on that day._

Nicky smiled, it wasn’t the first time Joe had said that about that particular morning. They’d said _I love you_ for the first time the night before. Over plates of hot Matbucha and the insistence of _this is what a date is!_ and _how is this different from my food Joe?_ They woke up and had sleepy morning sex that had fed into an uncharacteristcally lazy day for them both when they were just wrapped up in each other. Joe taught Nicky how to say “I love you” in Tounsi, and Nicky proceeded to say it as much as he could, hoping the words would burn into his brain. 

_I wish I had made it last longer_ Nicky typed out, truthfully. 

_it was perfect_ Joe responded. And it was, in many ways. But… 

_We had the whole day, and I wanted to spend it worshiping you. I got too impatient and had to have you. I always get too impatient around you. I can’t wait for the day when I finally get enough self restraint to take my time with you._

_....Nicky u fuck me for like hours_ Joe said, the three little dots appeared and then, _I mean don’t stop talking I like where this is going._

Nicky looked up at Joe, just barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes as Joe’s eyebrow lifted, as if he was saying _go on_

Nicky stared at the blinking cursor, glancing around before looking down and holding his phone at an angle so no unsuspecting customer could see what he was about to type. 

_I love how you prep something to cook ahead of time, like that french toast casserole._

Joe did roll his eyes, looking up at Nicky while typing _Seriously you want to talk about my cooking_

 _No_ Nicky shot off, and added _Its what we do when you put your food into the oven, how you come back to bed and get grabby. I love it when you get grabby especially when I can beat you to it, pull you down into bed and get my hands all over you_

_Yes, yes - loving this_ Joe said, as if Nicky needed positive reinforcement. 

_One of these times I want to put something in the slow cooker._ Nicky winced, maybe he did need positive reinforcement. But he barreled on, _So that way I can spend hours on you. The way you deserve._

A customer walked up to Joe, and he set his phone screen down. Nicky decided to really focus in on what he wanted to say here. 

_just like, I feel like I never get enough time to kiss your spine. Just starting at the nape of your neck and all the way down. I never liked rimming before you and you know that._ it’s easy enough for Nicky to mentally insert a joke about his gross exes that Joe always said whenever the topic came up. Not that any of his exes were particularly unclean - just that Joe was somehow … more trustworthy than most of them. 

Nicky checked that Joe was still talking to a client, before he sent off a few more messages. 

_But really what I want to do is get my fingers in you._

_You’re always so insanely tight, no matter how long I spent working you open. I’d love to see if that’s the case after hours and hours._

_I want to see if I can get you hard from it, so I think I’d blow you off first, quick and messy like you like it. Maybe we could have a cup of coffee, eat a biscuit, then I’d want you on your stomach._

He thought about it for a beat before changing his mind. And sending another flurry of long text messages as the woman analyzed two different pastries.

 _No, on your back, so I could see you get hard on my fingers. I’d have to keep one hand on your thigh because you’re so thirsty for it you’d definitely be bucking up into my hand._

_You take such good care of me, of everyone. I want to take good care of you. I’d give you whatever you wanted in the meantime as I opened you up. But I know you like my hand jobs._

_So maybe I’d lead with that, slow once you get hard. You’d probably still be a little wet from the blowjob so I wouldn’t have to waste any lube - all that would be on my fingers to make sure it’s good for you._

The customer stepped away and Joe looked down at his phone while he was still standing. Nicky could see his eyebrows raise, crinkles forming across his forehead. Nicky licked his lips and waited for a response. 

_Damn nicky_ Joe said, sinking in his chair and typing out _I have a slow cooker chicken bbq recipe that would be really good on day old buns._

Nicky smiled at his phone, and said _That could work. I wouldn’t be through with you until after dinner anyways. We’d have to have snacks by the bed._

 _How come you don’t talk to me this poetically face to face?_ Joe asked. 

Nicky thought about that for a minute, trying to figure out exactly where all these _words_ came from. He tapped his thumbs against the screen a couple times, thinking, before he tapped out _when I’m in your bed it’s hard to think about anything but you. You’re right there, where I can smell you, taste you, touch you. How can I sit there and tell you what I want to do to you when you’re under my hands and I can just show you?_

 _Nicky_ Joe wrote. 

Nicky pressed on, feeling that he wasn’t exactly talking about dirty texting anymore _I’ve never been good with words, but I’m slightly better at writing out what I want. And what I always want is you._

Nicky waited a beat, thinking before adding _Plus this way you can take a screenshot and remember it for longer. Whenever you whisper sweet nothings in my ear I’m always too lost in you to remember what you said._

Joe lifted his phone, holding it against his head before dropping back down and typing out, _I love you so much. You have your hand on my cock - whats next?_

Leave it to Joe to save emotions for when they could be face to face, where Nicky could lean into his whispers of sweet nothings, _I love you too Joe. What’s next is that I work you up, til that point where your mouth drops open so prettily and I know the next thing you’re going to say is ‘I’m cumming’_

“Hey Nicky!” A familiar voice said, cutting into Nicky’s focus. Nicky shoved his phone back into his pocket and looked up. 

“Quynh!” He stood up to meet her over the table hug. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” 

“We needed fish for dinner tonight. And I figured I’d surprise Andy with some Baklava.” She looked down at his offerings, and saw none of that. He’d gone with some experimental pastries, but stuck mostly to continental Europe in inspiration. There was no point in trying to compete with Joe when it came to baklava. 

“Joe has some baklava,” Nicky said, tipping his head towards Joe’s stand, catching Joe’s glare as he did so. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket over and over again. Quynh cast an unbothered look over her shoulder. 

“Joe and I aren’t speaking right now,” Quynh informed Nicky. “He didn’t save any of his rye bread for me yesterday.” 

Nicky couldn’t help but grin at that, Quynh was very vocal about her thoughts on Joe’s rye bread. “Why didn’t you come over to mine? I had some.” 

“Don’t make me say to your face that Joe’s rye bread is better than yours.” Quynh said, her facade breaking as laughter came in her eyes. 

“You asshole,” Nicky said with no heat. Afterall Joe’s rye bread was stupendous. “I have others.” 

“He foisted a marble loaf on me,” she looked over her shoulder and Nicky could see Joe stick his tongue out at her. “The jerk.” 

“Bring Andy some sfogliatelle then,” he said, gesturing down to the experimental flavors that were doing well, “or brownies. She likes my brownies.”

“I’ll do both,” she looked down at his offerings and saw some of the cookies as big as a small child’s head that he made just for the doe eyed children that tended to totter by. “And some of these cookies. Tell the jerk I said hi. I gotta get home before it starts to snow properly.” 

Nicky looked behind him, and saw the rain was beginning to clump on the ground, a puddle approaching the back of his chair. Great, soon he’d be cold and he’d have wet feet. 

Quynh paid and left, leaving Nicky to settle back into his chair and check his phone. Unsurprisingly he had quite a few messages from Joe. 

_and then???_

_no nicky ignore her_

_I’m mad at her she said my marble loaf wasn’t as good as my rye_

_it has my rye recipe in it how can it not be as good_

_nicky what happens next_

Nicky scrolled up, not that he needed to remind himself where he was - just to draw out the torture a little longer. 

_and then I’d stop_ Nicky said, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. 

_you’d STOP?_ was Joe’s quick response. 

_How am I supposed to worship you, if it only takes an hour?_ Nicky waited to see Joe read the message before he continued, _I’d take care of you, don’t worry. I’d keep you on that edge because I know how much you like the journey. Isn’t that why you read books? It’s never about the ending._

 _Should I be happy that you’re ‘impatient’ around me?_ Joe asked. 

_Probably. Because I’d want to keep you on that edge for hours. Months maybe. Would a year be too much?_ Nicky asked. 

_This right here is too much_ Joe shot back. 

_I wouldn’t want to be selfish. I know at some point you love the ending of the novel just as much as the rest of it. So I’d let you come. On my fingers the first time._

_.... The first time?_ Joe asked. 

_Yes, but I know how open you can be if I just work you until you come once. I’ve done that a few times now haven't I?_ he had. It’d been fantastic every time. _No what I want to see is what happens after a few times. Maybe three just to be safe_

 _In this theoretical world, I come in your mouth once, and on your hand three times?_ Joe asked. 

_We’d have all day, and we’d take breaks. Maybe I’d give you another blow job at some point. I’d have to buy lube first._ Nicky couldn’t stop smiling at that point. 

_Nicky you’re literally the worst person in the world_ Joe said, adding _I hate you more than Quynh_

 _No you don’t. Because you want to hear the rest don’t you?_ Nicky asked, lowering his phone and looking at Joe as pointedly as he could. He wondered how they looked to everyone around them, everyone who knew them as the bickering bakers turned lovers. Was what they were doing so obvious? Joe met his gaze and held up his phone, tapping out a response. 

_Of course I want to hear the rest_ Joe said. 

_okay, then I’d fuck you_ Nicky waited, one second. Then another. 

_I know you have more than that, you insufferable tease_

Nicky let out a laugh that drew his next door neighbor’s attention, “sorry, a funny meme.” 

_you said meme wrong Nicky,_ Joe said. 

_Irrelevant. I dont think I’ve ever told you how little I liked topping before you._

_Oh?_ interesting enough for Joe to type out the full word then. 

_Yes. All the work and effort and sure it’s fun but usually the other guy just lays there and jacks himself off._

_You don’t bottom like that_ Joe pointed out. 

_I treat others how I want to be treated. And you, my darling love, are an absolute delight to fuck._

Nicky watched as Joe rubbed his forehead, tilting a little forward in his seat and focusing on his phone. 

_it’s not just that you’re so tight, and so hot, no matter how much I open you up. And I assume even this time after you’ve cum for me four times before I push inside of you - you’ll somehow be just as insanely tight and hot._

Joe had no response, the dots appearing, and disappearing. Nicky pressed on. 

_Even if it was just that it’d be a delight but no. It’s the noises you make, how you move on my cock like it’s the best thing to be inside you since_ Nicky tried to think of what else Joe would like inside of him, before sending a follow up text _Since ever. And how your kissing becomes sloppier the harder I fuck you, like you’re barely holding it together. I’d want to spend another six hours just fucking you like that until you don’t even remember my name anymore, just the feel of me inside you, on top of you._

Nicky looked up, his eyes locking with Joe’s across the aisle. Joe looked like if Nicky showed any ounce of weakness then he’d run across the aisle, and bundle Nicky into the van until Nicky made good on his promises. 

Joe’s eyes widened as he looked down the aisle, his fingers typing out a quick response. He said _Shit it’s dr. psycho look busy_

Nicky twisted away from the aisle, feeling like he’d just been slapped with a metaphorical bucket of cold water before he stepped into the rain to open his van back door, as if he was checking for more items to restock his table. He was down to his last tray so there was only so much he could be pretending to do. 

What he should've done was ask Joe if the coast was clear, but instead he turned around to see the perfectly charming and entirely creepy Dr. Meta Kozak standing at his table. 

“Ah,” Nicky said, stepping up to the table, trapped by the social conventions of being a shop owner with wares. “I’m afraid I don’t have your usual order. I do have some cookies.” 

She smiled lightly, “It’s been awhile since you’ve been at the market.” 

Anyone else Nicky would’ve talked about the wedding season and how busy it gets, and how winter is really the only time he could come out. But somehow Dr. Kozak never went to his actual bakery and he didn’t want to give her more information that he had to. He just nodded, keeping a blank look on his face. 

Dr. Kozak didn’t falter studying each pastry on display. “What are these?” she asked, her finger pressing into a pain au chocolat that she better _buy_. 

“Dark chocolate and Orange Pain Au Chocolat,” when her finger moved towards the sfogliatelle, Nicky said “please don’t touch unless you’re going to buy.” 

“Right,” They both knew that the pastries were besides the point. She just wanted to trap him into another debate. As if she loved when Nicky ended every conversation by reminding her as politely as possible that she was evil. "Actually, I was thinking of our last conversation -” 

Nicky was sure he looked absolutely stoic when he glanced at Joe. His resting _calm_ face to cover his opinions was known far and wide (usually told to everyone by Andy.) He figured he must be slipping be Joe stood up immediately, walking towards him. Nicky scrambled to find something to buy time. 

“The sfogliatelle is date and honey, inspired by my significant other’s tastes.” Nicky watched as the charming facade dropped like butter out of a rushed danish. 

“Significant other?” She asked lightly. 

Nicky gestured towards Joe, who crossed the aisle and leaned against the table. 

“My love, the snow is coming into the shelter now,” Joe said, in English which Joe rarely spoke to him in, gesturing to where the snow was falling straight down, still outside of the shelter, “you should take your remaining pastries over to my table.” 

“Good idea darling,” Nicky said, packaging up the pain au chocolat and handing it over to the doctor, rattling off a price that was actually a dollar higher than normal. 

She paid and walked away, her heeled boots clipping against the old cobblestone. Joe watched her go. 

“You saved me from the ethics conversation again, and for that I will make Chicken Marsala for you tomorrow night,” Nicky said switching back to Italian, sinking into the chair with relief. 

“She comes straight for you like a moth to the flame, she knows that you’re her foil.” Joe turned, and looked down at Nicky’s table and at Nicky sitting down, “Well come on then, pack up.” 

“You weren’t serious,” Nicky said. 

“Of course I was, what if she comes back?” Joe started compiling the few remaining pastries onto one tray, “Wait, did you say this is date and honey?” 

“Yes,” Nicky helped him because he knew better than to try and disagree when Joe was in protective mode. “I have a few back in the kitchen. I was going to bake them fresh for you.” 

“I know you prefer when I eat it warm,” Joe picked up the tray and Nicky grabbed his small table top sign, following him across to the other side, “but I wouldn’t mind eating it cold.” 

It took a moment for Joe to shift aside his own pastries (and rye bread) to make room for what Nicky had left. They both had successful mornings and not too much left. Nicky helped by shifting over Joe’s sign and setting up his own, before going back to his own table for his coffee and his chair. 

Joe had a better spot; further from the slushy snow and protected from the wind. But he also had the presence of mind to buy a portable space heater, one that Nicky instantly put his frozen hands over. 

“You’re a genius, why have I never brought a space heater?” Nicky asked. 

“Because you’re a self-flagellating Catholic,” Joe said, taking Nicky’s coffee cup off the table and taking a sip, instantly pulling a face of disgust and holding it out, “Nicky, what the hell?” 

“What?” Nicky took the coffee back, “I didn’t want to clean the espresso machine.” 

“Oh Nicky,” Joe said, “There’s better coffee in the main building. I’ll be right back.” He pointed towards his baked goods “the prices are on that sheet right there.” 

Nicky looked over and of _course_ Joe had his act together enough to make laminated menus for his baked goods. Nicky picked it up to learn his prices, and sat down by the heater.

# 

Joe knew that Nicky tended towards Western Europe, and compensated by having an Eastern European item or two. Thick slices of babka drew Nicky’s attention. Raspberry chocolate with a vanilla glaze. There was also a poppy seed donut with a lemon glaze.

Nicky gave into temptation and switched some money from his own pocket to the pocket in his apron he’d put a few bills for change in. He could never resist a good babka. 

He picked at it as patrons came up, asked him questions about his food which he could answer, and questions about Joe’s which he could do his best guess. They both did brisk business. If Joe was a lesser baker than Nicky wouldn’t have felt the need to compete against him for so long. They knew each other’s strengths now, folding together to be stronger. 

Joe reappeared with two to-go cups, each with a small plastic nib keeping them from spilling out. Nicky reached up and dusted the snow off Joe’s beanie as Joe set down the cups. Nicky took his and relished the taste of good coffee, mixed with cream and cinnamon syrup to match the weather.

“Nicky, my love,” Joe started, migrating to Arabic and looking down at the babka, “I’m about to ask you a question and I’ll be very mad if you answer incorrectly.” 

“I paid for it Joe,” Nicky said, knowing that it was absolutely the wrong answer. 

“What part of _your money is no good here_ doesn’t stick in your head,” Joe asked as Nicky handed him his share of the sales. He peeled off a couple bills and tucked it into Nicky’s coat pocket. 

“You work hard,” Nicky sat down but didn’t try to give him the money back, he knew better, “you deserve all the money.” 

“I can’t take money from someone who has been sexting me all morning.” Joe leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head, “if anything I should be giving you money for your literature that I will frame and keep forever.” 

“At least take one of mine-” Nicky didn’t even finish his sentence before Joe grabbed the date and honey sfogliatelle, “let me know if the cream doesn’t hold the dates as well as I’d like.” 

“You know I like your dates,” Joe said, biting into it, “Nicky, you’re clearly a demon in disguise. Sent to torture me with your words and your baking.” 

“Says the man who beautifully paired raspberry in this bread. How did you keep the bread from being too moist?” Nicky asked, taking another bite of the tiny amount he had left. 

“I mixed freeze dried and fresh,” Joe said, winking at him, “I know how much you love chocolate covered raspberries.” 

“You’re a genius,” Nicky said, brushing his hands against each other and pulling his gloves out of his pocket. “Jesus, when did it get so cold?” 

“Do you remember this time last year?” Joe asked, tilting his head towards where Nicky’s old stall used to be, “you threw a snowball at me.” 

“I threw it in your general direction,” Nicky said, when Joe smirked he added, “you know that if I wanted to hit you I would’ve.” 

“You do have freakishly good aim, what were we even fighting about?” Joe asked. 

“You accused me of stealing the last outlet,” Nicky said. 

“Which you did.” 

“It didn’t have your name on it, Joe.” 

“You were using two outlets, it’s rude.” 

“Nile and I both have phones.” Nicky smiled at him, “if you needed the outlet so bad you could’ve just asked.” 

“I think you just wanted to see me wet, that's why you threw the snowball at me.” 

“You do look distressingly adorable in your beanie,” Nicky’s eyes flicked upwards, “is that mine?” 

“You made me wear it when I left your place a week ago. I haven’t been able to find mine since -” Joe didn’t bother to finish, as Nicky shushed him. Remembering exactly his part in losing Joe’s old beanie. Joe laughed, one of his deep ones that brought the crow’s feet to his eyes. Nicky wanted to make him laugh forever. 

“This is less boring than sitting alone,” Nicky said, leaning back in his seat and glancing over at his now empty table across the aisle. 

“Let’s make sure that the next time we come we get adjoining tables.” Joe nudged the space heater a little closer to Nicky, and Nicky nudged it back. “Keep you from ruminating on my bed too much.”

“I’m still going to ruminate. It's a great bed.” At Joe’s pointed look, Nicky shuffled closer to the space heater. 

“If you like mine so much then why do we end up in yours all the time?” Joe asked. 

“Because you’re the only baker in the world who isn’t a morning person, and the commute from my apartment is a minute.” Nicky pointed out. He knew that if he looked at the Lemon poppy seed donut that Joe would give it to him, so he looked anywhere but. 

“My bed and your apartment would be the perfect mix.” Joe lamented, sinking into his chair. 

“Let’s do it then,” Nicky said, acting as if he was speaking on impulse. Anxiety crawled in his stomach, at the thought of rejection or a sympathetic look to accompany said rejection. 

“What?” Joe sounded confused. “You want to know where my bed is from?””

“No, I’ve been thinking about it,” Nicky said rubbing his hands again and holding it over the space heater, how had he managed to text so much with his gloves off, he wasn't sure. It must've been the energy carrying him through, “I’ve also been thinking that my walk in closet is wasted on my wardrobe, both of ours could fit in there easily.” 

“What did I put in the babka?” Joe asked, mostly himself but Nicky heard him. 

“It’s delicious. You hate my tv so I’d have to get rid of mine but yours is better anyways. Now the kitchen will be a problem.” Nicky kept pressing on, waiting for Joe to catch on.

“Will it?” Joe asked, smiling. 

“Yes, we probably have enough springform pans between the two of us to open a third bakery.” Nicky shrugged, “but you don’t have a pasta maker, and I don’t have an instapot.” 

“Have you been thinking about this long?” Joe turned, his foot resting against Nicky’s on the cobblestones. Nicky could feel the pressure through his boot, the reassuring presence. 

“Vaguely, for a bit. Last night was the first night I slept without you in months.” Nicky shifted his foot until their feet lined up more one side. “I didn’t sleep well.” 

“I didn’t either,” Joe said. Nicky chanced a look at him, and realized he didn’t need to worry at all. Joe still had that look in his eye when Nicky practiced his Tounsi in front of him, or when they finally figured out a middle ground on their puff pastry. 

“If my apartment isn’t good, then we can move into yours. You have more space than I do. Or we could find another place. One with two kitchens. Either way, you can let the thought prove for a while.” Nicky said, even though he had a feeling he knew which way Joe was leaning. 

“Prove? Nicky? Really?” Joe licked his lips and smiled wide. “Baking puns?” 

“I needed to do something to keep you from jumping me in the marketplace.” Nicky gestured towards the stalls packing up, and the few lollygagging window shoppers. “Look at this crowd. They’d be scandalized.” 

“Hmm,” Joe crossed his arms and leaned back, “you know what though?” 

“What?” 

“We’d have to keep my couch. It’s the perfect height for you to bend me over it.” Joe gestured towards his waist, “goes right up to my hips.” 

“Jesus Joe.” Nicky said, the image going straight to his gut, he shook his head. 

“Turnabout is fair play, Nicolò.”

#

“I don’t care if it’s what the Romans used, I’m not fucking you with oil,” Nicky said, mostly into Joe’s neck, and partially towards the lube he’d run upstairs to get.

“They’re your ancestors -” Joe yelped at the bite Nicky laid on his neck, “Genoa was part of the empire!” 

Nicky huffed out a breath, pushing Joe’s shoulder so Joe would bend over the edge of the couch, “By that logic you’re Roman too.” 

“Which is why the oil would’ve -” Joe’s breath hitched, as Nicky’s finger sank inside of him. Nicky relished the feeling of Joe, tight and warm around his finger. “We’re not doing the coming four times thing Nicky so pick up the pace.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Nicky said, thrusting his finger in as gently as he could. He added a second because Joe made it clear he wanted to be fucked _hard_ over the couch. And Nicky was all about acts of service. 

“Alright Mr. Golden-rule-but-also-likes-to-be-fucked-raw,” Joe said all in one breath and gasping at the end of it, grabbing the arm of the couch as Nicky hit his prostate. 

“I’m a self-flagellating Catholic,” Nicky said, leaning over to kiss where Joe’s shoulder blades protrude, “you’re a decadent millennial.” 

“You’re younger than me!” Joe said, and Nicky just pressed his prostate again, wrapping his arm around Joe’s waist to get his hand between the couch and Joe’s already weeping cock. “You’ve been teasing me all day, put me out of my misery.” 

“Only because I love you,” Nicky said, letting go of Joe’s cock to spread lube on his own. 

There was always a moment, just a split second, where Nicky wondered exactly what he good deed he had done to be given the chance to make Joe happy. It usually popped into his head right as he pushed past Joe’s tight rim into the heat of him. 

“Joe,” Nicky groaned, dropping his head back. A thought occurred to him. He couldn’t believe that particular one had never come into his mind before, “do you want to hear what you feel like?” 

Joe made a noise, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, that had Nicky smirking. He tossed the lube aside so that Joe could have all of his focus. 

“You do. Am I too quiet during sex for you?” He asked, before pulling out and pushing back in. 

“No, fuck - Nicky you’re perfect, you’re trying to kill me,” Joe said, grabbing the back of the couch to stand more upright. 

“I thought you said you wanted to be bent over,” Nicky pointed out, keeping up the pace, he tapped Joe’s back and Joe bent at the waist, grabbing a pillow to bend his arms over. “I want to give you what you want. Do you want to be bent over while I fuck into you and tell you how good you feel?” 

Nicky picked up the pace ever so slightly, searching for the right angle. He kept one hand on Joe’s back, and the other on his hip. 

“Do you want to hear more about how you’re the only man I can imagine fucking?” Nicky asked, he caught a motion in the tv and realized that they were reflected. He’d never been the type to go to a motel with a mirror but Joe liked seeing beautiful things. “Look Joe,” He tugged lightly on Joe’s hair, and got to watch Joe’s eyes go soft like Nicky had offered him the last croissant at breakfast. 

“Nicky,” Joe said, biting his lip, “you’re _killing_ me.” 

“I hope not,” Nicky said, nudging Joe’s foot with his own so that he would bend just -

“Fuck!” Joe shouted, grabbing the armrest again. 

Nicky smiled, and pulled out, slamming back in. “I’m just giving you what you asked for Joe. I’ll give you anything you ask for. I love you so much, you’re so _good_ to me-” 

Joe’s head dropped back down, onto the armrest, looking away from the TV, and watching Nicky as best as he could without standing up and twisting back. Nicky wished he could bend over and kiss him, but he was worried that he’d just fall flat on his face if he tried. All the blood had rushed to his dick and he didn’t quite trust his balance at that moment. 

“Joe I don’t have the words to describe how good you feel,” Nicky admitted, somewhat breathlessly, “I wish I did, I’d tell you in every language I knew. Even English.” 

Joe groaned into the couch, and Nicky brought the hand on his back down to his hip, holding him in place so he could slam into him just slightly _harder_ because he wasn’t the only one who liked a bit of roughness mixed in with tenderness. 

“I wish I could stay in your bed for centuries, that’s how long it’d take for me to get over how amazingly perfect you are. How thankful I am every day that you needed my fridge. Lord, you’re so _tight_ everytime feels like you’ve never done this before.” 

“Nicky,” Joe sobbed, and Nicky knew what he wanted. He wrapped his hand around again, grabbing Joe’s cock - belatedly realizing he should’ve sucked him off first or at the very least not rub all the lube into his back while holding him down. 

“How do you always have the words,” Nicky said, “I can’t think, I just want - fuck.” 

Nicky abandoned dirty talk, even Joe seemed too far gone to appreciate it, instead, he redoubled, making sure that he dragged against Joe’s prostate until Joe began speaking. Granted it was in Tounsi, and he only knew a handful of words and a couple phrases Joe pointedly taught him. 

One of which was “I’m close” which Nicky said then. Bending over Joe to wrap his arm around his chest, “Come here,” he said in Arabic, unable to remember the word for here in Tounsi. 

Joe pushed up, his arms shaking as he did so, twisting to give Nicky what Nicky didn’t have to ask for, a kiss that was more effort than skill. The angle worked better for Joe, that much Nicky could tell from the hitched breaths. 

“Yusuf, I love you,” Nicky said in Tounsi, smiling against Joe’s lips. 

Joe grabbed Nicky’s arm, his hand itching up Nicky’s wrist to thread their fingers together. His gasped promises and sweet nothings changed to Italian. 

“I love you, Nicolò,” Joe said, squeezing his fingers. 

They’d done this enough times that Nicky could see the warning signs, not only the hitching breaths, or the sloppy kisses, but the way that Joe’s knees shook ever so slightly and the way that all Joe could say was _there, there_. Nicky pressed him into the couch to keep him upright, unintentionally trapping his hand and Joe’s cock against the rough fabric. 

And that was all Joe needed before he was falling apart in Nicky’s arms, trapped between Nicky’s cock and the couch. Nicky wished he could have the words to describe how it felt to have the strongest man he knew fall apart his arms, begging for Nicky to come inside of him in two languages that Nicky knew of and two others that Nicky didn’t. 

All Nicky could do was snap his hips against Joe’s ass one last time, and groan with his release. Panting over the bite mark he’d left on Joe’s shoulder. 

“I think…” Joe said slowly, after a few moments had passed, “I think I can’t walk.” 

“Maybe we should’ve fucked on the couch,” Nicky said against Joe’s shoulder. He realized what he said and clarified “I mean, laying on it.” 

“You’re too powerful when you talk dirty,” Joe said, before twisting in Nicky’s arm to pull him into a kiss, “See this is why you prefer bottoming and why I prefer talking. It’s safer that way.” 

“We won’t ruin that much upholstery,” Nicky said, smiling, “but it’ll be very worth it when we do.”

Epilogue

“You know…” Joe said trailing off as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say anything. He was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, Nicky watched him from underneath a weighted blanket that he’d all but claimed as his own, and on more than one occasion threatened to take back to his apartment.

“I know?” Nicky asked, sleep pulling his eyelids down, and a yawn working it’s way up his throat. Joe rinsed out his mouth and turned off the light in the bathroom. His bedroom was big enough that there were paths on either side of the bed. Nicky liked having his bed shoved into the corner of his room as it was _cozier_ and Joe would just climb over him anyways as he was doing at that moment. He mentally earmarked it for when the topic came up again. 

“You own your apartment,” Joe lifted the weighted blanket, sliding in against Nicky’s back. 

“I do,” he’d scrounged his money for years to be able to buy a building outright. Landlords were the devil. 

“I was planning on buying the next time I move.” Joe said, wrapping one arm around Nicky’s waist and threading their fingers together, while the other arm propped him up. Nicky’s hand went to Joe’s arm almost automatically. 

Nicky hummed, “two kitchens then?” 

“I’m not ready to buy,” Joe said, Nicky looked up at him, “but I think moving in with you won’t really count as moving as I pretty much already live with you.” 

“This duplex is more to store your instapot than anything else,” Nicky said, smiling up at him, “and it’s a waste of plastic for us to have a set of toothbrushes here, and a set of toothbrushes there.” 

“We can’t waste plastic,” Joe said, leaning down to kiss Nicky, “I’ll do it for the environment.” 

“Good. I’m doing it for the instapot.” 

“I thought it was for the bed,” Joe laughter coloring his words. 

“And the blanket,” Nicky said, using their joined hands to pull it up towards his chin. 

“Is that all?” 

“Don’t act like you haven’t been eying my pasta maker since day one,” Nicky said, holding a finger out to stop Joe from kissing him. 

“You have one for the bakery and one for your apartment, that’s a bit much.” Joe's eyes crinkled and Nicky felt the shred of worry that Joe wouldn’t want to move in disappear, leaving him feeling warm and loved. 

“Now the one in the apartment is _our_ pasta maker.” Nicky used all of his energy to lift his head, kissing Joe soundly on the lips, “now go to bed. We’ll figure it out in the morning.” 

Nicky fell asleep to the sound of Joe chuckling.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I was going to skip the sex scene entirely but then .... I didn't? Sorry!
> 
> Also ever since the first installation when Nicky says he hates English they're just always flip flopping between Italian and Arabic between the two of them, unless otherwise specified. I dont know if this changes how people read it. I just don't speak Italian or Arabic. I speak some spanish but not enough to write an insane amount of AU sexting. 
> 
> As always let me know if I fucked up something! 
> 
> EDIT: Cleaned up my anxiety notes haha 
> 
> ALSO Polar_knight made an edit based on this series - Check it out!! (its so pretty ;_;) 
> 
> https://alaskandawn.tumblr.com/post/630963497750200320/this-was-inspired-by-deliciously-cute-scenes-from


End file.
